


The Merry Men and Women of the Forbidden Forest

by Merry1978



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Absurdist Comedy, Alternate Universe, Deathly Hallows Fix, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-21 17:58:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merry1978/pseuds/Merry1978
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who is hiding in the depths of the Forbidden Forest? Why have the Malfoys disappeared? Is Albus Dumbledore alive? How does Harry Potter avoid Ministry clutches? And, last but not least, just what do all these people want from Severus Snape?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gastronomy

**Author's Note:**

> This story was first written in Russian while I was trying to digest the DH and all of the implications of this wonderful book. Obviously, my original text contained too much culturally specific humour, so it required some heavy adaptation/rewriting for non-Russian readers. If you have already read the Russian version, you’re in for some surprises. If you have not, please take into account that it starts rather silly and absurdist, and later goes a bit more serious, if still absurdist as well. :) Rated T for some more or less adult humour in a couple of later chapters, but mostly it's just me trying to be on the safe side, really.

_In a shared fish, there are no bones._

~ Democritus

 

“That’s it, Luce, I have had enough. That old paranoid fool will be the death of me!” Severus Snape closed the door of their dug-out hut and cast some imperturbable wards on it.

After his escape from Azkaban three days ago, Lucius was now hiding in the Forbidden Forest with the former Potions master of Hogwarts. Now he left his unfinished crossword puzzle in an old ‘Prophet’ edition and looked at his friend with some interest.

“What old paranoid fool exactly do you mean?” he asked, rising on his elbow.

“He keeps asking if Dumbledore is truly dead and gone,” Severus grumbled, ignoring the dangerous inquiry.

“And is Dumbledore truly dead and gone? That is the question,” Lucius said thoughtfully, lying down again on his crude plank-bed.

“Are you trying to drive me mad?” Severus complained as he sat on his own plank-bad and started to pull off his boots. “I told you, the old man fell to death. From the tower.”

“I have finished all the bacon,” Lucius said suddenly from behind his paper.

“What?” Severus stopped with his boot in his hand.

“The bacon, Sev. I have finished it. I was quite hungry. I have left you some kippers, though.”

Severus swore and threw his boot into his old friend’s head. However, Lucius deftly caught the offending article and put it down on the floor, all that still meditating over his crossword puzzle.

Sighing, Severus got their sack with food from under his bed, fetched some stale bread from it and started his pathetic supper. He really, really hated fish. Unfortunately, the new food package from Albus was not due until the next day.


	2. Renaissance Men

_The goal of socialism is communism._

~ Vladimir Lenin

 

Lying on his plank-bad, Lucius contemplated his paper, nibbling on his pencil in a deep thought.

“Sev?” he called out after a long silence. “What is _socialism_?”

“Hmm?..” Severus asked sleepily from the other bed.

“Do you know what does this socialism mean?”

“ _What?_ ” Immense surprise seemed to have awakened his friend at last.

“Socialism,” Lucius repeated patiently. “What is it?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Severus said, puzzled. “Something Russian, I guess. Probably some political arrangement.”

“What political arrangement?”

The Potions master scratched his head.

“I vaguely remember it’s something about sharing everything equally.”

Lucius frowned.

“We share everything equally here, you and I. Does that mean we have this...” he checked his paper, “socialism?”

“Certainly not! You have eaten all the bacon, leaving me with kippers!” Severus was outraged. “And what do you need such nonsense for, anyway?”

“I am asked right here what the goal of socialism is,” Lucius complained, thrusting the paper into his friend’s hands. “Do you see?”

Astounded, Severus looked at the half-done crossword puzzle in the _Prophet_.

“ _Revolution, bourgeoisie, guillotine_ ,” he read aloud. “Are they crazy? Who could be writing this for them?”

“Dolohov,” Lucius answered. “Didn’t you know? He is really big on crosswords and all this...” he waved his hand, seeking for the right word, “revolutionary thing. Anyway, he regularly sends them new puzzles and even gets several knuts out of that, as far as I know. And usually loses it all to Rody later in poker. So, you really don’t know anything about socialism?”

“No, I don’t. How have you even managed to finish this half is beyond me.”

Lucius smirked.

“Dolohov goes on and on about all this for hours. And Malfoys tend to be Renaissance Men, thank you very much. I try to educate myself in all things.”

Now it was Severus’s turn to smirk, as he gazed at the half-written word _COM****SM_.

“I see. And your Renaissance education simply does not allow you to recognize such... ahem... _common_ word, I guess.”

“What?”

Severus sighed.

“Nothing. Just write _communism_ there, that is all.”

Lucius nodded, putting the missing letters in the empty cells. Severus had just enough time to doze off when his friend suddenly burst into laughter.

“You must listen to it, Sev! _Virgin birth_. How is that even possible?!”

“It’s parthenogenesis,” Severus grumbled. “And now, leave me alone, you Renaissance Man. I want to sleep. If you wake me up one more time, I’ll poison you, I swear.”

Lucius decided it was safer to keep quiet, after all, and continued his crossword struggles in silence.

Next morning Severus found his friend soundly asleep, his paper on the floor, the puzzle almost finished, except for one very strange word: _B*L*L*IK*_. Smirking, the Potions master filled the empty places with four A letters and started making himself some coffee. They had it just enough for one cup only.

“Socialism, indeed,” he thought, smiling, and made the first delicious sip.


	3. The Ultimate Argument

_A true friend stabs you in the front._

~ Oscar Wilde

 

The weather was atrocious, especially for the month of June. The Forbidden Forest was all soaked under the steady drizzle, and Severus hated it with a passion. He also hated crawling in the wet grass under the wet bushes and not being able to swear about it aloud. However, he had no other choice, as the instructions he got prohibited any noise until he got to the rendezvous point.

Robes were _not_ made for crawling, obviously. The offending garment got soaked as well and clung heavily to the grass, to the bushes and to Severus himself. At last, he reached the fir-tree chosen by the Headmaster, hid under it and tried to recover his breath, cursing silently the weather, the forest, the trees, the Aurors and the old man himself. He had three more minutes to wait.

Exactly one hundred and eighty seconds later, a flaming phoenix came down from the skies in a flamboyant flash of fire. As the bird fell on the ground, it changed into Albus Dumbledore, whose neon-orange robes could be seen by a blind man in the night forest from several miles _at least_.

“So, why exactly had I to _crawl_ here, pray tell?” Severus asked gloomily.

“That’s for secrecy, my boy. You do know very well the importance of keeping this secret.” Albus smiled. “I have a very important task for you. While I am busy with... with looking after something, you must remind Harry that he must stay with his aunt until his coming of age. It is vitally important.”

Severus was rendered speechless.

“Could you do that?” asked Albus.

“Are you mad?” Severus hissed. “I am _wanted_ , for one. He will never believe me, too. And, last but not least, what about keeping secrets?!”

“I believe in you,” Albus said seriously, giving him the new sack of food. “You will think of something, I am sure.”

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Angry beyond belief, Severus was walking back and forth in their tiny hut.

 “You look like death warmed over,” Lucius said, biting into an apple. “Has something happened, Sev?”

Severus halted in his tracks and turned around, barely avoiding the table.

“Yes!” he bellowed. “Something has happened! And the people who live in glass houses...”

“Unfortunately, we live in a dug-hut,” Lucius interrupted calmly, aptly throwing the apple core into the trash bag beside the door. “Anyway, I am impeccable, as always. And despite being forced into an impossible situation, I am not running rampant in a tiny room like a wounded elephant. So, what has happened?”

Severus sighed and sat heavily on his bed.

“It’s not important.” He Accioed another apple and started chowing on it. “It is not important at all.”

Lucius rose on his elbow.

“So, what is this unimportant thing that our dear Headmaster wants you to do?”

Severus choked on his apple.

Sighing, Lucius shook his head.

“Now, you don’t really take me for a fool, do you? Keeping secrets, indeed. You are lucky that I decided to escort you there and back; otherwise, you would have to battle off one hungry hag and two bored nymphs – all for yourself. Quite nice girls, by the way.” He smirked. “I must say, however, that you look ridiculous when you crawl. So, once again: what does Dumbledore want of you?”

Severus groaned, tugging at his hair.

“Sorry, I could not hear him telling you,” Lucius said unapologetically. “You were too far, and I could not come closer without being seen. So, spill it. We’ll think of something, I am sure.”

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Harry Potter finished reading his mail and had to stop himself from growling. A foot and a half of some pompous nonsense from Voldemort was not surprising. His silly threats and insults were almost funny. It was the postscript that made Harry snarl with fury.

 

_Potter,_

_You must immediately leave Little Whinging and surrender to the Dark Lord._

_S.S._

 

He crumpled the parchment and threw it into the corner angrily. This year he would stay with the Dursleys until the 31st of July, thank you very much!

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Don’t worry, Sev, he will stay home now,” said Lucius. “This method is childproof. I’ve tried it on my Draco many times, it _always_ works.”


	4. Midsummer Night’s Gifts

_Are not you he that mislead night-wanderers,  
laughing at their harm?_

~ William Shakespeare

 

“Have you gone mad, Sev? It’s night, if you haven’t noticed! Time to sleep, you know. Where are we going?”

“To the forest.”

“We already ARE in the forest!”

“Do keep quiet,  if you please. Nobody but hopeless Muggles will sleep tonight. And certainly not here.”

Lucius sighed and moved the bundle he was carrying to the other shoulder. There were two linen sheets, an axe and some matches in there, and Merlin knows what else, probably.

“All right, I’ll ask it in even smaller words. What are we going to the forest _for_? And why must I carry this trash instead of using spells like a normal wizard?”

“We are going after a valuable ingredient. That is why we can’t use magic. Any more questions?”

“Just one. Couldn’t you find anyone else?”

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Let’s trade tasks, Sev. You will chop the wood, and I’ll go around in circles, muttering gibberish.”

“Do you know what gibberish to mutter?”

“No. Does that matter?”

“Alas, it does. So start the fire, please, and don’t be in the way.”

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“How could I possibly know that aspen wood did not burn well?”

“You should try burning raw aspen wood... ah, wait, you just did. Do you use that in your manor’s fireplaces too?”

“I have house elves to look after my manor’s fireplaces, thank you very much. And they use apple wood. I like the scent.”

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“You want me to do WHAT? That’s it, Sev, you are mad. I _won’t_ jump in there.”

“Not _in_ there. Just _over_ it. Do you need explaining every little thing? How did you manage to pass your N.E.W.T.s, I don’t know. You are worse than the Potter boy!”

“All right, so do it yourself, if you wish to.”

“Don’t worry, I will.”

“Perfect. And I will stand by and watch.”

“It is quite simple, Luce. Either you jump or you fall. The choice is yours.”

“All right, Sev. I concede. But if I burn my... something valuable, Cissy will claw your eyes out. She is a real witch, my Cissy.”

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Are you quite sure this water is safe to get in, Sev? It looks too dark. Who only knows what it is infected with.”

“Oh Merlin. You do remember, don’t you, that it’s actually the middle of the night? If we have found some lake with the water that _glows_ in the dark, I would not recommend you to touch it. This is a normal lake with normal water. Get in.”

“It is probably icily cold. And it stinks of bog.”

“It won’t kill you anyway. You only have to get in for a minute, and then you’ll be able to go back and dry yourself. Here is the sheets, all ready.”

Lucius undressed himself and threw on his cloak against the cool night air. He came up to the bottomless black pool and cautiously tried the water with his toe. At the next moment, he jumped away from it.

“Sev, you _are_ mad! It’s freezing! I will get cramps, and sink, and die! And I’ll catch a cold! And pneumonia!”

“Don’t worry, I have enough of Pepper-Up on me,” Severus smirked, getting himself naked too. “Get in the lake, if you don’t want me to throw you there.”

Moaning and groaning, Lucius parted with his cloak, all the way to the water pretending to be dying from the cold. At last, he sighed and dived into the dark water without a splash.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“So, _this_ is your precious Splitwort? The Springwurzel?” Lucius asked derisively, wrapping himself in the sheet and looking down his nose at the unimpressive little plant with small flowers. “ _This_ is your lock-opening and metal-bursting magic herb? Ha! I am deeply wounded. How could you risk my health and my life for this ugly weed? I could have catch my death in that lake! I could burn alive!”

“Yet you did not,” Severus answered calmly. He wrapped the precious plant into a clean white cloth and put it into his pocket. “Now we have just to give it to Albus in time and don’t let it touch metal. Otherwise it will lose its power.”

“Well, you are the expert,” Lucius shrugged. “But I must warn you that the next time you will have to go without me.”

“Uh-huh,” Severus answered vaguely. He could not tell his friend that there could not be a next time. He could not possibly explain that only a total ignoramus who did not know what he was looking for could find a Splitwort on Midsummer Night.

__________

A/N. _Splitwort_ is more or less literal translation for the most famous Slavic magic herb that opens locks, breaks chains and shatters metals. _Springwurzel_ is German for “key-root’, it’s also a magic herb that opens locks.


	5. Three Is a Crowd

_“What—is—this?”_

_“This is a child! We only found it today. It’s as large as life, and twice as natural!”_

_“I always thought they were fabulous monsters!”_

~ Lewis Carroll

 

 “Albus, this is out of the question!” Severus pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. His expression would be a perfect illustration for ‘mulish obstinacy’ in any dictionary.

“We have no choice, Severus,” Albus Dumbledore said not without some impatience.

Lucius who had been five minutes late to his eavesdropping session and so had not heard what all this was about, was also becoming tired of this inane dialogue that seemed to consist of “It is really necessary, my boy!” and “No, never, I won’t do it!”.

“ _What_ is out of the question?” he asked, leaving his hiding place behind a giant fir-tree and coming out into the clearing.

Both quarrellers went silent and stared at him.

“How long have you been here?” Albus asked at last a bit reproachfully.

Lucius made some quick calculations in his mind.

“About a month and a half, I guess. Why?”

The old man sighed gravely.

“It does not matter. I wonder what—”

“...does the Dark Lord think of you and Severus?” Lucius asked, narrowing his eyes. “And what does the Ministry think of me?”

“Nothing,” Albus said cautiously.

“And the Dark Lord thinks of you exactly the same thing,” Lucius smiled. “So, what is this idea of yours that Severus thinks is out of the question?”

“His idea,” Severus seethed, “is dropping Potter off here to stay with us until the end of summer.”

“Severus!” Dumbledore looked appalled with this indiscreet announcement.

“Pray tell, why not?” Lucius’s surprise seemed to be so honest, that Dumbledore and Snape stared at him again. “The accommodations might be a bit small, but I am sure we can dig out a second hut.  Well, Severus can, anyway. And you will have to deliver more provisions, but this is just details, and so should be manageable.”

Severus suddenly rediscovered his ability to speak.

“Are you crazy?!”

Meanwhile, the Headmaster’s blue eyes began sparkling strangely.

“Please correct me if I misunderstood you, Lucius. You don’t mind looking after Harry, is that what you are saying?” he asked.

“Not at all,” Lucius answered magnanimously, ignoring his campmate’s eyes, wide from horror. “For all intents and purposes, I am a father first and foremost. So, one boy more does not make a difference...”

Severus slumped to the ground, pulling his hair out and making some muffled noises that were piteous and disgusted at the same time, as he could not bear listening to Lucius’s enthusiastic discussion with the Headmaster.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The evening of the same day, Severus was making the second mud-hut’s roof, quietly damning to hell Lucius, Albus, Potter, the Dark Lord, the Forbidden Forest, the Western Paradise and the lower world all the same, as his treacherous friend was busy criticizing his endeavours for aesthetic defects. The phoenix chose that very moment to come in blazing flames from the sky and to drop on the grass a number of deliveries: one Thunderbolt, one school trunk, one owl’s cage and one Potter Jr. A snow-white owl came all by herself and landed gracefully on the pile.

For several blissful moments, the clearing was silent. After that, Potter got out from under his baggage and started screaming at Dumbledore who had just assumed his normal appearance.

Severus, going sulkier every minute, finished the roof and went into the hut to make a plank-bed for Potter. Lucius sat down on a small grass mound nearby and just watched the show.

“It seems to me that you are wasting your precious time, Professor Dumbledore,” he said nonchalantly fifteen minutes later. “I don’t think you will hear anything new from now on.”

The Potter boy was speechless with indignation. Dumbledore, however, smiled.

“Well then, I leave the boy in your capable hands, Lucius. And now, alas, I have to... well, fly away.”

The next moment, the blazing phoenix flied up and disappeared into the dark-blue dusk. Potter followed him with his eyes, gaping like a fish on a shore.

“All right, Mr. Potter, let me introduce you to the pleasures of the bivouac life,” Lucius announced in an amiable tone of a worldly gentleman. “It would be interesting to know if you can make yourself useful in the circumstances.”

Dumbfounded Potter, looking lost, followed him unquestionably.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

At dinner, Lucius had a lot of fun watching his unwilling cohabitants performing a very emotional pantomime. Somehow, Severus and Potter managed to pull some quite unbelievable faces at each other, all the while eating their spaghetti Bolognese with relish. The result would certainly give satisfaction to anyone loving their bread and circuses at the same time, thought Lucius.

The repast was almost over when a flaming bird came down from the skies again, looking quite impressive in the darkness. The phoenix dropped another young man with his baggage on the grass, this time a blond one.

Everybody went silent. Then Severus very slowly put his bowl aside and drew himself up to his full height, looking murderous.

“What does this mean, Albus?” His voice was sharp enough to slice dragon scales. “Does this place look like nursery to you?”

“I cannot possibly ignore a student who needs help,” Dumbledore answered with dignity, despite looking slightly embarrassed. “Nobody can find you here. And I absolutely believe in your abilities to defend the children and therefore our future...”

Draco, looking dismal, got out from under his things, cautiously approached the merrily burning campfire and sat on an unclaimed piece of log.

Potter, looking as dismal, turned to Lucius.

“I hope you have more spaghetti,” he said sulkily, “because I surely won’t share mine.”


	6. Playing House

_One man’s folly is another man’s wife._

~ Helen Rowland

 

Snape’s outrageous shouting was the reason Harry woke up at three o’clock in the morning. Harry raised his head and listened. Except for Snape, the camp and the forest were silent, only Malfoy Jr. was snoring quietly on the other bed, and it seemed to be raining outside.

“This is all your fault, Albus!” Snape was bellowing. “This is what your charity missions have led to!”

Dying from curiosity, Harry got up, trying not to make any noise, and cautiously looked out of the door.

In the middle of the clearing, a very wet and dishevelled Snape stood with Narcissa Malfoy in his arms. The woman seemed to be unconscious. Or, rather, Harry supposed her to be so, as he could not imagine any normal person to be asleep while Snape continued shouting at the Headmaster.

Dumbledore, however, had not any chance to answer, as at this point Lucius looked out of the second hut, also a bit dishevelled and somewhat sleepy. Then he frowned.

“Pray tell, Severus, what are you doing with my wife?”

“I could be mistaken, of course, but I think I am holding her,” Snape answered acidly. “It is not that easy, by the way.”

Snorting, Lucius came up to him and took Narcissa from the Potions master.

“It’s the eyes of the beholder and the arms of the holder, you know,” he said. “You don’t have a right to criticize until you get a wife of your own. Why have you decided to bring her here, may I ask? I missed her greatly, of course, but I don’t think Cissy will be comfortable in our... humble abode, if you can call it that.”

“As you and Draco both decided to disappear,” Snape was dripping with sarcasm as much as his hair was dripping with rainwater, “the Dark Lord decided to give me your wife for keeping. He seems to think it will make you reappear much faster.”

“Well, well. And why is she unconscious?”

“I gave her a sleeping potion. Well, I could not bring her here just like that, could I? She will wake in the morning. We’ll have just enough time to decide what we are going to do with her.”

“I won’t let anybody do anything with my wife!” Looking offended, Lucius held her tighter to his chest. Giving his friend a derisive glare, he turned and carried Narcissa to their hut. Snape and Dumbledore just stood there looking after him in slight shock. A couple of minutes later, Lucius looked out again and added tartly, “By the way, Sev, you can start digging out the third hut.”

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Just before the sunrise, Harry woke up again, cold and miserable under his blanket that had become damp from dew. Sighing, he got out of the hut. Everybody was still asleep, except for sullen Snape. The Potions master was sitting beside the smoldering campfire, wrapped in his cloak, and tried to roast a piece of bread on the coals. It stopped raining; not far away Harry saw a freshly dug hole. It seemed that Snape had really started to make himself a new hut.

As Harry came up to the fire, Snape looked askance at him, but said nothing.

“Um... Do you want any help?” Harry asked cautiously, waving his hand at the hole. It was the first thing he said to Snape since Professor Dumbledore had brought him here from the Privet Drive.

Snape glared at him.

“Don’t think, Potter, that you can bribe me into letting you in.” Harry’s confusion must have been obvious, as the Potions master made a face and explained, “If you are forced to live with three Malfoys at once, having a place to oneself is a real luxury. So I am _not_ going to share.”

“You can keep your measly hut to yourself,” Harry retorted, sitting down on the nearest log. He spent several minutes just looking at the glimmering coals, and then said half to himself, half to nobody, “I tucked away some good bacon yesterday...”

Unexpectedly, this time Snape gave him an approving look.

“Bring it here,” he ordered, getting some more bread somewhere out of his robes, and a knife out of his high boot. “And please, do be quiet.”

The rising sun chose this very moment to appear above the Forbidden Forest.


	7. A Bait for a Trap

_Have you not tethered a young kid under a tree,_   
_lain above it with your rifle, and waited_   
_for the bait to bring up your tiger?_

~ Arthur Conan Doyle

 

“What does that Lord of ours take me for?” Snape asked indignantly. Keeping his bowl of porridge close to his chest, he was wildly waving his spoon around in agitation. “Does he take me for a fool?” He knocked with his spoon on his forehead, but as the former was made from aluminium, he got no dramatic sound to illustrate the point. “Me, for a fool!”

Harry tried very valiantly not to giggle, but his efforts were in vain. This time the regular morning show _‘Snape reports on the Dark Lord’_ was even more spectacular than usual. Draco did not even try to look considerate. He was laughing so hard that he fell from his log into the grass and was now rolling there.

“Stop fussing, Severus,” Narcissa rebuked the Potions master. “Just sit somewhere, calm yourself and explain. What does he want from you this time? And you should eat your breakfast while it is still hot.”

“Our dear Lord is...” Severus went silent, sitting down and taking a spoonful at last. As Narcissa insisted that she should take care of “her dear boys” herself, the porridge was slightly burnt, but Severus courageously gulped it down and continued, “So, the Dark Lord demanded I got him a cabriolet for Potter’s birthday.”

For a moment, there was a surprised silence in the camp.

“Voldemort wants a cabriolet for _my_ birthday?” Harry asked in a shock. “Has he lost his mind?!”

“To do that he should have had something to lose in the first place,” Lucius smirked. “This is too much even for him, though. Did he demand a white Thestral thereto?”

Now Harry looked at Malfoy Sr. in surprise. After the last couple of days, he got more or less used to the man’s peculiar views on everything and to his seeming levity, but usually his jokes were not _that_ abstract.

“Since when Thestrals are necessary for a cabriolet?” asked Harry.

“Well, Thestrals are not necessary, really. Abraxans are even harder to get, though,” Lucius answered in contemplative tone. “Aethonians look too plebeian. And Granians bite quite badly. Most unpleasant.”

“Potter, you nitwit, that was an oxymoron,” Draco snorted. “Like, you know — black snow, white Thestral... Basically, you just need a horse, that’s all.”

“That is not an oxymoron, that’s a catachresis,” corrected Narcissa.

Snape who was trying to get himself a mug of hot coffee almost got it all over himself, but made no comments.

“And how are you going to attach a horse to a car?” Harry asked snidely. As he always did at school, he simply ignored all the obscurities and asked about the thing he was interested in.

 “To a car? What for?” Lucius also seemed sincerely surprised.

“It seems to me that you are talking of different things,” Snape said slyly. As soon as he became a part of the audience instead of the show participant, he calmed immediately, regaining his usual spirits. “Luce, could you explain in details, please?”

Malfoy Sr. glanced at him suspiciously.

“I can’t believe you haven’t seen a cabriolet,” he said.

“I have seen everything,” Snape smirked. “Potter, however, seems to hear for the first time in his life that a cabriolet is a specific kind of a trap.”

“A kind of _what?_ ” Harry asked in confusion.

“A trap, you dolt. A two-wheeled carriage,” Draco interfered and was immediately rewarded by his mother’s tender cuff on his nape.

“Stop bickering, boys,” she admonished. “What it was that _you_ were talking about, Harry?”

“Cabriolet is an open car,” Harry explained loftily, still a bit offended.

“What would the Dark Lord need such a thing for?” Draco asked, wide-eyed.

“And what does that have to do with _my_ birthday?” added Harry.

Everybody turned to Snape.

“The Dark Lord is not exactly in the habit of explaining his orders,” the Potions master made a face. “Fortunately, just after I left, he started to scream at Pettigrew in such a voice that now half the world knows of his secret plans. The problem is that this does not make them more intelligible. As far as I could understand, on the 31st of July he wishes to drive a cabriolet on a Diagon Alley and make a speech. At the same time, he also wishes to impress the public with his incomparable beauty, but that is much easier to achieve, thank Merlin. Glamour charms are not that difficult. It’s the cabriolet that bothers me. And the fact that it’s but three days until the 31st.”

 Everybody exchanged looks, trying to digest the information.

“And you wanted me to serve this lunatic, Dad?” Draco demanded at last. “Were you temporarily crazy?”

“It seems to run in the family,” Harry mumbled, not being able to help himself. The next moment Narcissa cuffed him slightly too.

“Who does not let bygones be bygones will wash the cooking pot,” she smiled sweetly.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

By the time when the phoenix (that is, Albus Dumbledore) came for his usual visit that evening, the problem still stayed unsolved. Nobody of the camp dwellers possessed a car, and so nobody had any idea whatsoever how to get one. As soon as Dumbledore was brought up to date, he got himself a mug of hot tea, put a lemon drop into his mouth and became lost in thought.

“Hmm, that’s a challenge,” he murmured. “Maybe Arthur could help...”

Snape suddenly straightened.

“Albus, you are a genius. Potter, what have you done with that flying junk of Arthur’s?”

Harry stared at his Potions professor for a couple of moments, and then he got it.

“You mean, with Mr. Weasley’s Ford Anglia?” Remembering the whole mess they got into that time, he reddened a bit. “It’s here... in the forest, I mean... running wild, I guess.”

“Running _wild?_ ” Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Well, he turned alive here somehow,” Harry got even more embarrassed. “He saved us from the Acromantulas later that year.”

“Perfect,” said Lucius. “Tonight you should go and catch that ridiculous thing.”

“I should?” Harry bristled. “Why me? And, by the way, Ford Anglia is _not_ a cabriolet. It is not even a convertible, its top is fixed.”

“It’s you who let it run wild,” Lucius retorted. “So it is you who must catch it. And we can always cut the top off.”

“As if it would allow that! It is _alive_!” Harry crossed his arms on his chest. “Anyways, I am not going anywhere alone. Do you know where that car has gone? It’s the darkest part of the Forest. Merlin only knows what lives there!”

“Calm yourself, my boy, nobody’s letting you go anywhere alone,” Dumbledore promised and traded a look with Snape.

“Yes, that’s what I thought,” the Potions master nodded gloomily. “I am going with you, Potter, if that’s a consolation. However, I need a good rope, a sock and Lucius.”

“Whatever for?” Malfoy Senior asked suspiciously.

“For security,” Snape answered vaguely. “Go get ready. And don’t forget your ridiculous cloak, Potter. We depart at half past eleven precisely.”

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“M-m-m-m! M-m m-m-m!” Harry shouted in outrage through the thick sock in his mouth, vainly trying to get rid of the rope that bound him tightly to the tree. “M-m m-m-m m-m!”

“Don’t be silly, Potter,” said Snape who was sitting in the same tree under the invisible cloak. “It is quite gracious from my part. I could use a dirty sock.”

This statement provoked a new series of protestations under the tree.

“Who else could I use as a bait? Would you propose using Lucius?”

Hearing this, Malfoy, who was hiding under the same cloak, just snorted derisively.

“Anyway, keep making as much noise as possible, Potter,” Snape continued. “The sooner your shrieks attract the Acromantulas, the faster we achieve our idiotic goal.”

“May I remind you that it was you who came up with this plan?” Lucius smirked.

“If the goal is idiotic by its very nature, it does not matter who came up with the plan,” Snape replied calmly. “Stick to business.”

Very soon indeed, gigantic shadows appeared in the darkness under the trees. Harry felt his hair stand on end; he stopped making any sounds and tried not to attract attention to himself. The shadows came closer.

“Don’t you think that this time you went too far, Sev?” Lucius asked quietly.

“Alright, three more minutes, and we untie him,” Snape answered grudgingly.

 _Three more minutes, and there won’t be anybody to untie_ , Harry thought darkly.

“Three more minutes, and you will untie him yourself,” Lucius warned, “because in two minutes I Disapparate.”

Fortunately, in that very moment, just as any good horror movie demands, a car engine roared in the bushes, and the darkness was dispelled by automobile headlights. The smaller Acromantulas scattered immediately, and even the big spiders pulled back a bit, obviously already acquainted with the bellicose spawn of American car industry. Its lights flaring menacingly, the Ford Anglia stopped in front of Harry and stared, as if asking a question.

“M-m-m!” Harry said gratefully.

“Stupefy!” Snape said from the tree, and the car stopped moving with a hurt expression frozen on its front. The spiders moved forward again, and Harry braced himself for the worst, but the next moment he was freed and pulled into the car. As soon as the doors closed with a bang, he caught hold of the person nearest to him and blacked out.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Meanwhile in the camp Albus paced by the fire, getting more and more worried as the time passed. Narcissa tried to calm him down, pouring him fresh tea.

“They should be here long ago,” the Headmaster muttered. “What if something happened?”

“What could possibly happen?” Narcissa asked, carefully hiding her own worry. “They will get back soon. Luce always returns before breakfast at the latest. He promised me that at our wedding.”

“Does he really?” Albus inquired.

“Yes, he does. Except for his time in Azkaban, of course.”

Then they heard the purring of the engine at last, and a battered, but proud Ford Anglia came to the clearing from the bushes. A yard and a half of a spider’s leg stuck out of its trunk, obviously torn off in a battle.

“You see, I was right,” Narcissa smiled.

Snape who was driving, opened the door and got out of the car.

“Albus, this crazy tin can has a half-tank of Sleeping Draught, so it must be out of it for the next twenty four hours at least, but I would still keep an eye on it, if I were you,” he said. “As to me, I am going to bed. Could somebody please shake awake these two drunkards in the back seat? They finished all my reserve stock of Firewhiskey, all the while criticizing my driving habits. Next time they are on their own, I swear.”

By the door of his hut he stopped and took something out of his pocket. It looked like a small wet rag. The Potions master hung the rag on the nail sticking out of the doorjamb and added, “By the way, I will be grateful if you return this to Draco later.”

Five minutes later Albus and Narcissa heard Malfoy Jr. shouting in the boys’ hut.

“Potter! What did you steal my sock for? It was my only clean pair!”


	8. A Dog in a Poke

_If you don’t believe in ghosts, you’ve_   
_never been to a family reunion._

~ Ashleigh Brilliant

 

The last three days before the 31st of July the elder Malfoys and Snape mostly were not at the camp, coming in and soon going away again. Harry was not really interested in details, though. He played Exploding Snap with Draco, missed Ron and Hermione somewhat terribly and sometimes wondered what the Order was up to these days. But mostly he longed for his coming of age. Three more days, and he will be able to use magic! On the 30th, he even tried to go to bed early so that his birthday would come sooner.

As it always goes with such good plans, he had trouble getting asleep first, and then slept straight through the night missing his usual midnight wake. So, the first person who congratulated Harry on his seventeenth birthday was Snape.

“Congratulations, Potter,” he said, taking off his mask and yawning, “you are a wanted person now.”

“What? Whatever for?”

“The Ministry seems to think you are involved in Albus Dumbledore murder. Either as a main witness or as an accused, it does not matter. By the way, I would not use magic yet, if I were you. You will be detected immediately.”

Harry sat down right on his bum in shock, missing the log.

“But how is that possible?” he wailed.

“Elementary, Potter,” Snape shrugged off his Death Eater garbs, as the sun was starting to shine in earnest. The day promised to be hot. “Since the Dark Lord could not find you tonight on Privet Drive, he decided that a small military takeover should console him after he was denied his bit of Potter hunting. The Ministry is virtually under his control now, so they simply did not take the tracking charm off you. It will end by itself, of course, but not for a week yet, at the very least.”

“And Scrimgeour let them?” Harry could not believe his ears.

 “They did not ask his opinion,” Snape answered darkly. “And this is very good for him, because otherwise he would certainly say something imprudent. You Gryffindors are never able to bite your tongue when it is necessary.”

“They just bite somebody else’s head instead,” quipped Draco, coming out of their hut. This time he was quick enough to avoid his mother’s cuff.

“Stop being vulgar, if you please,” she rebuked him. “Anyway, today is Harry’s birthday. Please desist from talking politics.”

“Never mind, I am interested in politics right now,” Harry insisted. “I am curious.”

“Curiosity killed a cat,” Snape hissed.

“I am also curious,” Lucius interfered, coming up to them. “I want to know what’s going on, Sev.”

“Nothing good,” the Potions master admitted with reluctance. “Scrimgeour is in Azkaban, allegedly for letting Albus’s murderer go and not really looking into the matter. We have a new Minister for Magic, one Pius Thicknesse. His is under Imperius, of course. And his right hand, Mr. Potter, is your good old friend Dolores Umbridge. The Dark Lord is going to make all Muggleborns give themselves up for registration and interrogation, because they steal magic of pure-bloods.”

“What a farce,” Harry growled.

“Real circus,” Snape answered sourly, taking his usual place by the campfire, as Narcissa made for him his usual mug of coffee.

“That’s enough,” she said strictly. “Harry should have fun today and get presents, not worry out of his mind. Could you please bring here the blue package, Luce? You know where it is. I hope you have found what I asked you to, have you, Severus?”

Sighing, Snape nodded and took a small pack out of his robes.

“This is it,” he said in lugubrious tones, giving it to Narcissa. “Everything, including vanilla and candles. Don’t ask me for my cauldron, however. You can perfectly use your cooking pot for the dough.”

Narcissa had not time to object, because at that moment Lucius came back, levitating the ‘blue package’, which turned out to be a dark-blue sack as big as a boar. The sack _wriggled_ in the air.

“Happy birthday, Mr. Potter,” said Lucius with a slight sneer. “That’s from all of us.”

He dropped the sack on the ground, and it barked angrily in a painfully familiar voice. Snape winced.

Harry went numb and could do nothing but stare.

“You know, Potter, it is traditional to open your birthday presents and to say ‘thanks’,” Draco told him snidely.

With shaking hands, Harry untied the sack. Something big, black and hairy burst out and jumped at him. When that something, looking strangely like Sirius Black’s Grim form, started licking his face, barking madly and wagging its tail, Harry felt the world tilting. The last thing he heard before everything went black was Draco’s indignant cry, “I told you! I told you we should get him a stiff drink first!”

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

He was woken up by a simple _Ennervate_. Rubbing the bump on his nape, Harry sat up and looked around. Draco was standing nearby, grinning outright. Narcissa sat by the fire, energetically whipping up something in a big cooking pot. On the far side of the clearing, Snape and Sirius shouted at each other. Lucius looked smug, watching over them and holding two wands that he had obviously taken from them.

“How...?” Harry asked feebly.

Narcissa stopped whipping for a moment.

“He is my cousin, for what it’s worth,” she said in a matter of fact voice. “And the Blacks are able to get to a cousin _wherever they are_. It’s a family thing. Now, could you be a dear and bring me a new sack of flour from our hut, please? Draco, you go help Harry.”

When they returned with the flour, shouting had already stopped. Sirius, however, had a split lip, and Snape got a thick ear that went thicker and redder every second. Sirius looked almost guilty, as his furious cousin berated him. Snape stood aside, dishevelled, and tried to cover the injured ear with his hair, without much success.

“Why I am even trying?” he grumbled. “You will be the death of me, all of you. I don’t know who is the worst here, really. I have a wedding to visit tomorrow! How I can go to a wedding with such an ear? Damn you to hell, you stupid mutt! Hey, by the way...” he suddenly brightened. “Black!”

“What do you want, Snivellus?” Sirius cried back. Narcissa immediately reached out and hit him on the forehead with the big spoon she used to knead the dough. Harry could not help giggling. It was obvious that Narcissa did not consider his godfather an adult.

“I was just going to tell you good news,” Snape said with a sly smirk. “Your moon-suffering fluffy little friend got married to Cissy’s niece. So you and Cissy are twice related now.”

Everybody went silent. Even Narcissa stopped her work.

“Remy got married?” Sirius roared like a wounded hog. “Without me?!”

“ _Petrificus Totalus!_ ” Lucius said quickly, and Sirius fell like a cut-down tree. “Mr. Potter, I hope you would not mind very much if your present just lies quietly for some time? Meanwhile, you can tell him all the news, and he will just listen. Silently. By the way, I am very sorry to remind you, Sev, but the only spare bed is in your hut.”

“Over my dead body,” Snape said in a terrifying voice. “Over my dead body! I would prefer even Potter over Black!”

“I say!” Harry exclaimed, offended. “You are not that much of a prize yourself, _sir_. And I sure want to share a hut with Sirius.”

Now everybody turned to Draco. He sighed tragically in response.

“All right, all right. I already suffer terrible hardships here, with the mosquitos, and all that, but as it’s your birthday, Potter... You don’t mind if I move to your hut, Professor?”

Snape stared at them for a while and sighed too.

“Do what you want. Do a cancan for Potter’s birthday, what do I care? Just don’t you dare to touch my things, keep quiet when I am sleeping and clean after yourself...”

To this grumbling and nagging, Draco started moving his meagre possessions to the Potions master’s hut. Narcissa returned to her dough pot, and Lucius just shrugged and went to his own hut to take a nap. Harry sat down in the grass near his Petrified godfather.

“And that was just usual everyday stuff,” he told Sirius in a low voice. “By the way, Snape is usually the sanest of them all, you know. Although, it was Lucius who let me have some Firewhiskey, so he is all right too sometimes. Just wait until Dumbledore flies by, you will see for yourself what it means to live in a _real_ madhouse.”


	9. Kindred Spirits

_“Kindred spirits are not so scarce as I used to think.”_

~ L.M. Montgomery

 

Harry woke up to Snape’s hissing right into his ear.

“Potter! Potter, do you hear me?”

Rising on his elbow sleepily, he wanted to answer, but Snape quickly clamped his hand over Harry’s mouth.

“I am going to the Weasley wedding. If you are sensible enough to avoid deadly danger this time, don’t you _dare_ to show up there. Believe me, I will personally guarantee it will be quite unpleasant otherwise. And, most importantly, do keep your idiotic godfather out of trouble. Tie him up to the bed if needed, do you understand?”

Harry shook his head up and down energetically. He most certainly did not want to lose Sirius again. Snape moved his hand away, nodded his farewell silently and Disapparated.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The sunset was nearing, but Snape still had not returned. Dumbledore also had not come. That day Harry quarrelled with Draco four times (two of them after having been thoroughly trashed in chess), stoically peeled a bucket of potatoes for dinner (somebody had to do it, after all, and he was not yet ready to start his homework, thank you very much!) and had a bit of a nap listening half-heartedly to Sirius and Lucius bickering. They spent the day lazily discussing who had it worse, Sirius with his mother or Lucius with his mother-in-law. In the end, Narcissa lost her patience and put a stop to the so-called discussion.

At last, at eight o’clock in the evening, a small pile of people Apparated to the clearing with a loud ‘pop’. The pile consisted of one dishevelled Potions master, one Hermione Granger who clutched hold of him as if he was a pillar in the storm, and one Ron Weasley, whom Snape dragged by the ear. As soon as Snape’s feet touched the grass, he loosed his hold on Ron’s ear and began trying to free himself from Hermione’s grasp.

“Miss Granger, do stop pawing me immediately! Unhand me _now_!”

Hermione obeyed him, even if not immediately. Snape removed his Death Eater mask and mopped his brow. He looked exhausted. Ron still sat in the grass perplexed, cupping his ear with a hurt expression on his face.

“Where is Albus?” the Potions master asked. “I have news for him.”

“He is not here yet, but he can come flying every moment now,” Harry answered readily. He was happy to see his friends at last and, surprisingly, glad to see Snape back, safe and almost unscathed. “Oh, Professor, who gave you that bump on your forehead? Are you all right?”

“I will live,” Snape answered wryly. “Miss Granger prefers treating guests with champagne in a very untraditional manner.”

“Did she hit you with the bottle?” realised Harry.

“I did not know!” Hermione exclaimed, wringing her hands. She looked upset and angry at the same time. “You wore the _mask_ , sir! And I don’t appreciate it when some masked... _people_ grab me and start interrogating! How could I know that you...” She sniffed, and Ron glared at the Potions master.

“Ah, so you molest students now,” Sirius smirked, coming up to them.

Seeing him, Hermione squeaked in dismay, clamped her hand over her mouth and moved back a bit with her eyes wide.

“Oh Merlin!”

“It’s Sirius!” Harry said unnecessarily, a bit lost for a moment.

“If you don’t get out of my sight right now, Black, I won’t be responsible for my actions,” Snape said tiredly. Sirius smirked and tried to hide behind Harry’s back. Snape sighed. “Potter, please take pains to explain the situation to your friends. Is there anything comestible in this place? The Weasleys are not quite prone to serve anything to Death Eaters, even at weddings.”

Harry did not know what ‘comestible’ was, but the professor was clearly hungry.

“Narcissa is boiling the potatoes,” he grinned. “And there must be some bacon left if Lucius has not eaten it all.”

“Perfect. All right, go entertain your friends,” Snape waved them off and started to go to the campfire, then stopped again. “Bear in mind, however: I am _not_ digging out any more huts. That’s your problem now.”

With that, he left.

Still staring at the Potions master’s back, Ron stood up slowly. Then he looked around, examining the clearing. On the rope between two trees some washed clothes were waving in the light breeze — Draco’s green socks and Harry’s red ones with golden snitches, a couple of spare Death Eater robes and Sirius’s Grim T-shirt. Snape’s mask was hanging from a peg near his hut’s door. Draco was sitting under a big pine-tree, leaning his back against the trunk, and threw pinecones at Sirius and Harry, but missed every time. Lucius, lying in the shade of Narcissa’s and his hut, was doing a crossword puzzle in the yesterday’s copy of _The Prophet_.

“And we must live here now?” Ron asked at last with an obvious shudder.

“If you can believe such a thing,” Lucius drawled from behind his paper, “it is the same dreadful thought that I had myself six weeks ago. You will get used to it, however. Hey, Black, do you know what ‘the first commercial photography’ is named? By the way, what on earth is the ‘photo’ part doing in that word? Is it some sort of writing with light? Like waving a wand while doing _Lumos_?”

“Haven’t the slightest idea,” Sirius answered. Bending down, he picked up a pinecone and threw it at Draco, striking him right at his forehead.

“How many letters?” Hermione asked suddenly.

“Thirteen.” Lucius put down his paper and looked at her with some interest. “Do you know what that could be, Ms. Granger?”

“Does ‘ _daguerreotype_ ’ fit?”

“Perfectly!” Delighted, Lucius got his quill from behind his ear and put the letters into right cells. “So what is this ‘photography’ thing? And does this,” he consulted the paper to be sure, “this _‘daguerreotype’_ have something to do with dagues?”

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Cutting bread for dinner, Harry still heard Hermione discussing excitedly with Lucius something named _camera obscura_ , Leonardo da Vinci and Wizarding vs. Muggle claim on Aristotle’s genius.


	10. Vox Populi

_What a heavy burden is a name that has become too famous._

~ Voltaire

 

“Don’t you dare to say his name, Potter!” Severus shouted. “You will endanger all of us! The Ministry—”

“What do they make such noise about, Luce?” Narcissa murmured sleepily, turning to her other side and burrowing deeper under the covers.

“Do not worry, my darling, I will check,” answered her husband.

Yawning, Lucius donned his robes and looked out of the hut. Severus towered above a very stubborn-looking Potter, obviously trying to educate the boy. Again. This time, the Potions master was explaining in his unique pedagogical manner that Potter should not pronounce the Dark Lord’s name aloud. Granger and the Weasley boy were silently watching from safe distance.

“Sev’s abandoning himself to his passion again,” Lucius said with a small laugh. “Mentoring Potter, that is. I guess I should interfere before someone says something indiscreet.”

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Snape, can’t you stop looking at me as if I—”

“Your impudence, Potter, is above everything I have ever—”

“Good morning,” Lucius said amiably.

Both went silent and gave him very similar glares.

“All right, Sev, tell us, what new surprise has our Ministry invented now?” Lucius was sincerely curious.

“Those idiots prohibited pronouncing even the name Vol—”

“SHUT UP!” roared Severus in a fury, and Potter did shut up. The Potions master looked as if he could have a stroke every moment, and Lucius started to worry.

“There is no need to get so upset,” he tried to console his friend. “Please do explain everything. And you, Mr. Potter, should just listen silently and resist from drawing any conclusions until later.”

Severus inhaled slowly.

“The Ministry,” he began, visibly trying to stay calm, “ordered to place a jinx on the Dark Lord’s name. Saying it breaks protective enchantments. The moment it is uttered, the place where it is pronounced becomes marked on a map, and the area is _immediately_ invaded by the newly-formed—”

“Punitive force goons?” Hermione proposed.

“More or less,” Severus nodded darkly. “So if this idi—”

“Calm down, Sev,” Lucius interfered hurriedly. “I am sure Mr. Potter has already understood that the matter is serious, so he won’t say the Dark Lord’s name in vain.”

“Of course I won’t!” the boy pouted. “I am not an idiot!”

“There can be different opinions on the matter,” Severus drawled.

“Alas, but nobody is interested in yours,” Sirius Black smirked from behind Lucius’ back. “So, what are we going to do?”

Lucius turned around in surprise to look at his brother-in-law. Well, his almost brother-in-law, for the lack of the better term.

“What are you saying, Black?”

“This is an atrocious infringement on the freedom of speech,” Granger declared. “I think Sirius is right. We must do something immediately, make an appeal to the public, probably...”

“Ahem. I had another idea, actually,” Sirius shrugged. “Sitting here, doing nothing... it’s boring! So I thought we should...”

Albus Dumbledore chose that very moment to appear in the sky as the golden phoenix and to come down on the clearing (which was starting to look very trampled on, as a matter of fact).

“Oh Merlin...” Severus quietly groaned. “I think I am going to lie for a bit. Just in case.”

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Around midday, when the Potions master deemed it safe to look out of his hut, Lucius was finishing his second beef sandwich.

“Ah, you’re just in time, Sev. We are having lunch,” he said. “Help yourself.”

Severus looked around, but saw nobody except for Lucius and Narcissa.

“And where is everybody else?” he asked suspiciously. “I hope they haven’t gone to take the Ministry by storm?”

“That plan was declared not detailed and sound enough yet to put into action,” Lucius answered without batting an eye. “So, our Gryffindor friends went out to organize a flash mob.”

“A flash ... _what?_ ”

“A flash mob. Miss Granger assured me it was some newest Muggle from of entertainment. Something of pop-culture, as far as I understood.”

“Really? And what exactly does this entertainment involve?” Severus became more and more suspicious.

“Once again, as far as I understood, it involves many people doing some silly thing together at the same time. The more people, the merrier, and the more silly this thing is, the funnier. Personally, I don’t see how this differs from their usual behaviour.”

“And what silly thing,” the Potions master said slowly with some dread, “are they going to do this time?”

“Saying the Dark Lord’s name,” Lucius answered, courteously making a sandwich for his friend. “As often as possible, and all over the country. They consider it making the _vox populi_ heard and at the same time being a big pain in the Ministry’s... neck, so to speak.”

Severus groaned.

“Has Potter gone with them? How could Albus let him?!”

“What do you take me for?” Lucius looked offended. “Even if the old man had allowed this, I would not let the boy go without us. However, everybody felt that Potter should not go, so he is lying in their hut, all tied up. Draco is reading him aloud, so that the brat would not get bored. The latest Potions text, I believe.”

Severus almost choked on his lunch.

“By the way,” Lucius continued, “it was me who persuaded Dumbledore not to bother you with this. Somehow, I thought that Muggle pop-culture was not your style... Hey, are you all right? Should I pat you on the back?”

Severus shook his head and continued coughing.

“You know, Luce,” he said at last, “I think I have come to a surprising conclusion that I owe you a thank you.”

“You owe me nothing,” Lucius smirked. “As it happens, it’s time to feed Potter. Draco and I were somewhat apprehensive about doing it without you. What if he is a biter, you know?”


	11. The Question of Authority

_Children are like cement. Whatever falls on them makes an impression._

~ Dr. Haim Ginott

 

Several days later, Potter still nursed his offence and refused to talk to anybody, even to Black. Everybody else was simply ignored, pointedly and ostentatiously.

So once again after the usual night gathering with the Dark Lord, Severus found all the inhabitants of the small camp in the clearing, except for the Boy Who Pouted. However, this time, instead of being busy with their usual affairs, the entire crowd surrounded something near the fire, looking attentively at this something.

“What have you done now?” Severus asked suspiciously.

“Seems like Cissy has invented a new recipe,” Black smirked and moved away to avoid being smacked by any of the Malfoys.

Feeling interested against his will, the Potions master came closer. On the grass, there was a cauldron with some white concoction in it, very thick and cloggy. Ronald Weasley tried to pull a ladle out of it — without any luck. One more unsuccessful attempt later, the boy flew off and fell hard on his backside, gawking stupidly at the ladle’s handle in his hands.

“Brawn instead of brain?” Draco smirked. He felt quite safe, as his mother obviously lacked her usual means of education at the moment.

Narcissa did not mind him, however; she was busy examining the cauldron and its contents.

“I haven’t the slightest idea how I could make that,” she said contritely. “I always thought that semolina porridge was the simplest thing to cook.”

“I think it is perfect, my darling,” Lucius said courteously, putting his arm round his wife’s waist.

“Yes, we just have to understand what exactly this ‘it’ is!” Narcissa laughed. “And how to wash the cauldron clean.”

“If you need a clean cauldron, there is always Potter,” Severus smirked. “At least, this is the thing he does well.”

“I hear you, you know,” Potter shouted from his hut. “And I won’t wash anything. Anyway, I ignore all of you.”

“Yeah, we got that all right, thanks,” Weasley grumbled, still sitting on the grass.

“So, what are we going to do with this... thing?” Narcissa asked with a sigh, pointing at the cauldron with the mysterious concoction.

“Miss Granger,” Lucius began with interest, “I don’t suppose in your copious bundle of knowledge you have some information on the possible ways of using rubbery semolina?”

“Well, I don’t think I have, actually,” Granger said with some doubt. “But I can always look it up...” And she began rummaging in her beaded handbag.

“No, no, thank you, it is not really necessary,” Lucius said hurriedly. “Do not take the trouble, please. We’ll think of something.”

“It’s nothing to think about,” Weasley said suddenly. “Let’s go fishing.”

For a moment, there was silence, and then Black slapped his knee and grinned.

“Bravo, Ron! I know a small lake nearby, full of trout. We just have to make the fishing rods... Anybody wants to keep us company?”

Before Severus could bat an eyelash, the camp was empty. As soon as Weasley and Black thought of fishing, Lucius got very curious about using semolina in this process. Draco went with them just to be sociable. Narcissa looked like she was afraid of leaving her men alone with such dangerous and unpredictable things as fishhooks. Miss Granger, obviously, simply could not miss the pleasure of taking over another mass-scale silliness... a _flash mob_ , that is. Anyway, Severus was left to himself.

Sighing, he started looking for some food. The fishing team took with them all the bread leftovers, so he had to settle with tea, hardtacks and beacon. He was about to make his second mug of tea, when Harry Potter came out of his hut, dishevelled and sulky.

“Abandoned me, all of them,” he complained to himself, still pointedly not looking at the Potions master. “Didn’t even ask me if I want to go with them...”

Had Severus been a poet, he would felt his temper flaring as a white-hot incinerating flame. However, he was not a poet, so he felt only usual annoyance.

“I can certainly see why,” he sneered venomously. “What would they need you there for, pray tell?”

Startled, Potter dropped a hardtack he had in his hands and stared at the Potions master, his mouth opened in surprise.

“What?!” the boy wailed, looking offended.

“You are ignoring everybody, aren’t you?” Severus inquired coldly. “Judging by your behaviour in the last three days, you are quite content with your own company.”

“You... you!..”

Potter seemed to be speechless.

“Do not worry, I will not continue to burden you with my cumbersome presence.” Severus got up. Taking his mug and a couple of hardtacks with him, he was going to disappear in his hut when Potter suddenly jumped up too.

“Wait!”

“What is the matter, Mr. Potter?”

The boy’s chin went up stubbornly, and Severus saw with surprise that Potter had grown up and was now not much smaller than the Potions master.

“I... I am sorry. Please, don’t go. It’s... it’s so boring to be alone.”

It was now Severus’s time to stare.

“You cannot possibly think that I am going to _entertain_ you, can you, Mr. Potter?”

“N-no,” the boy stammered. “Just talk to me, all right? Please.”

_‘Sweet Merlin’_ , Severus thought as he sat down again, _‘I am becoming popular with kids and dogs. What a farce!’_

“Well, what do you want to talk about then?” he asked sourly aloud.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 “Do not let yourself be carried away, boys,” Narcissa said worriedly, as her husband poured firewhiskey into their mugs. “We still have to go back to the camp.”

“And do not forget to clean the cauldron, somebody,” Sirius added. “We were supposed to use that mess as bait.”

“We are all lucky that Sev does not like fishing,” Lucius smirked. “I hope he does not know what really is used as bait for the trout.”

“If he knew, I would think of something else,” Narcissa smiled a bit evilly. “Too bad the ladle was too week, I didn’t think it would break.”

“Wait a minute,” Hermione said slowly, looking at the others, “you have planned all of this, haven’t you? But what for?”

“For a very good reason, Miss Granger,” answered Lucius. “I can bet half of my family fortune that when we return, Severus would have already forced your stubborn friend to talk. He is the only one able to accomplish such a feat.”

“But why this supposed fishing trip?”

“Just think, Hermione,” answered Ron. “What other reason we could have to go to the forest for a whole day, all of us? And we needed Snape to stay at the camp too!”

“Mushrooms were out of the question,” Draco added. “The professor is really mad about gathering anything wild that grows. It’s halfway to potions, you know, and all that rot. So, we could only go fishing.”

“And what about this?” Hermione pointed at the cauldron. “What about this entire ‘porridge gone wrong’ story?”

“My dear,” Narcissa smiled, “in a good plot everything must look natural. Can you imagine all of us going fishing just like that, with no story behind it?”


End file.
